The Happiness Trap
by the.goal.is.greatness
Summary: She can become anything for you. Wife, lover, best friend, wise man, fool, idol. It isn't a bad life to have everyone in the world at your beck and call. [Mohinder x OC]
1. Chapter 01 Contentment

**Title:** The Happiness Trap  
 **Genre:** Romance  
 **Rating:** T  
 **Pairing:** Mohinder x OC  
 **Spoilers:** N/A  
 **Summary:** She can become anything for you. Wife, lover, best friend, wise man, fool, idol. It isn't a bad life to have everyone in the world at your beck and call.  
 **Word Count:** 806  
 **Warnings:** N/A

 **Disclaimer:** Not mine. Summary belongs to Star Wars: The Original Series.

 **A/N:** I am pretending Heroes: Reborn doesn't exist.

* * *

 _Contentment (noun) 1. The state of being contented; satisfaction; ease of mind 2. Archaic: the act of making contentedly satisfied_

* * *

It was hard almost every day to return to his apartment – days when he was distracted walking through the door, so distracted that he still expected Mira to be there, still expected there to be the feeling of _life_ within his walls. But then he would remember that Mira was gone, that he had driven her away. Again. No matter how many times he tried, something always wound up pushing other people away. There was research to be done, people to help, people to escape from. It always drove other people away. No matter how hard he tried to make their relationship work, he was not enough for her. Now he was alone.

The world now – it was different, too, easier, and yet harder, too. When Claire performed her little stunt at the Carnival, it ushered them all – plummeted them into really – the world. People who only knew mutants as comic book characters, as movie heroes and villain, were suddenly, and intensely, confronted with the knowledge that their world was much, much smaller than they had originally thought. They were not special. They were not as evolved as they had imagined. They were not at the top of God's evolutionary ladder.

Some people found it fascinating – it was their childhood dreams come to life. They could meet a real life Wolverine, Professor X, Storm, Ice Man. They could imagine that they, too, someday would realize their own power, could imagine that they were special. They imagined formulas to turn them into Captain America – things that Mohinder knew to be very real. Imagined Spider-Man like accidents in which they acquired their own gifts and skills. They adored this new world. They adored what it represented: possibilities.

But, of course, there is always another side to the coin, always a reverse, a flip side. There are those who do not like to think their place in the world was being disrupted, their chain of command upset. They did not like the thought that they were not the leaders of evolution in their world. They wanted that place back. There was no more rungs on the ladder higher than theirs. There could not be. So they preached that this was not natural evolution, but a mutation, a genetic anomaly, like cancer, like a virus, that needed to be extinguished before it corrupted the entire species. It would infect others, it would kill them, destroy them. The Organization lived to destroy them all.

India, with its Hindus and its strong sense of karma, was as good a place as any to be, even though it reminded him every day of his family, of the life he could have had with Mira here. Its people were more concerned with work and life than with tracking down mutants. There were simply too many people in India's cities to worry about whether or not your neighbor could lift a car with his bare hands. God's plan and design was not up to them to decide. For the most part, he was safe here to conduct his research, as long as he kept to himself, kept his research within the walls of his own sad, empty little home. He could not preach in the streets or teach his findings to his students or ask for research funds, but no one was actively hunting him down here. Not yet. But he needed to go farther with his research, and he was worried that that might bring the wolves sniffing at his door.

With a sigh, he slumped down at his table, dropping his bag to the floor beside him. He didn't want to create more people with abilities. He knew firsthand how tentative and volatile a transformation like that could be. But there were so many things that genetics could be used for simply by introducing a bit of mutant DNA. He could give strength to the weak, heal diseases, repair cognitive functions, grow back limbs. And there were many mutants with abilities that were hard to hide, or hard to function with that he could help. Those whose physical forms were altered by their difference. Those whose gift was painful. If only he had enough funding to conduct his research.

It certainly was a bright new world now, and Mohinder worried every day what that world would bring to his door.


	2. Chapter 02 Pleasure

**Title:** The Happiness Trap  
 **Genre:** Romance  
 **Rating:** T  
 **Pairing:** Mohinder x OC  
 **Spoilers:** N/A  
 **Summary:** She can become anything for you. Wife, lover, best friend, wise man, fool, idol. It isn't a bad life to have everyone in the world at your beck and call.  
 **Word Count:** 1,915  
 **Warnings:** N/A

 **Disclaimer:** Not mine. Summary belongs to Star Wars: The Original Series.

 **A/N:** I am pretending Heroes: Reborn doesn't exist.

* * *

 _Pleasure (noun) 1. The state of being pleased 2. Enjoyment or satisfaction derived from what is to one's liking; gratification; delight 3. Worldly or frivolous enjoyment 4. Recreation or amusement diversion; enjoyment 5. Sensual gratification 6. A cause or source of enjoyment or delight 7. Pleasurable quality_

* * *

The heat is sweltering in India in the summer – the harsh press of sun on the hordes of people who are crammed into the cities during the mid-day rush was a thick blanket. It covered you, pressed down on you, suffocated you. The push and pull of people and cars and animals was thick and cloying. It always made Mohinder wonder why he had returned here. He had been to, and lived in, other cities of high population (New York, London, Los Angeles), but none of them were like Mumbai. India's residents seemed to all have the same plan at any given moment – all moving in one direction, towards one goal, all in the same moment.

But then he'd remember playing in streets like this as a child, chasing a soccer ball, weaving in and out of the legs of travelers and businessmen and women carrying children and baskets, and he'd be transported back in time. He'd remember people watching, days spent studying or at prayer, helping his mother clean the house. And then he'd remember that India, in his heart, was his home, no matter how claustrophobic it made him at times.

Days like today though, days when the sun beat down like a drum and the air was heavy with the scent of sweat and dirt and spice, made him long for the cool New York springs, made him long for rain and overcast days. With a sigh of relief, he entered his apartment, air conditioner left on full blast since this morning. His electric bill was astronomical, but it was worth it, just to walk home in the heat and cross the threshold into a cool, arctic home.

There was a very fine line teaching genetics these days. When before he was seen as a futurist, this thinking revolutionary, even blasphemous, now people knew the truth. There _were_ those out there who were different, more evolved, different. But how to teach that to others so they understood that this was not providence of God's will or divine intervention, but instead was natural selection – Darwinism. That right now, they were standing on a great precipice in history, and humans, and the world, in mere decades, would be forever changed because of it? Mohinder tried his best, but there were always students who either blatantly didn't belief in the existence of humans with gifts (contrary to visual evidence), thought it was God, thought they were extraterrestrials. Very few people took his class simply based on the science of it all. Most seemed to want to contradict him. And he always had to be careful to blend his theories on gifted humans with lesser facts, to avoid people looking too closely into his lessons, his ideas.

When he stumbled into the cool, refreshing air, all thoughts of erstwhile students fled his mind. His bag hit the floor with a dull thud, and, in another two steps, he'd collapsed onto the couch. He only meant to rest in the soothing climate controlled heaven that was his apartment for a few moments, but, between one breath and the next, Mohinder Suresh, was fast asleep.

* * *

A crash sent him careening from deep sleep to full wakefulness in a matter of moments. The darkness confused him momentarily, off put him. How long had he been asleep for? But his heightened senses allowed his thoughts to ping around in his head, even as his other senses took in his surroundings and reacted.

The sound had come from his lab, a small room set off from his living quarters, and he rolled silently off the couch and started to creep towards the half ajar door. Sometime in the night he'd kicked off his shoes, so he padded noiselessly forward, body crouched low, eyes straining in the darkness for any hint of light or movement. When he peered around the door, a quick flash of motion caught his eye and he reacted without thinking. Reaching out to grasp the intruder, he caught a quick flash of eyes – brilliantly gold and slitted like a cat's – and yanked them forward. They gasped in surprise as they were spun around, then groaned when Mohinder slammed them into the wall, lifting their feet off the ground with no effort at all.

"Who sent you here?!"

The voice, when it came, startled him into letting go of them, dropping them unceremoniously onto the floor. "No… one…" The voice was smooth and cultured, honeyed. A woman?

Two steps to the side and he flicked on the light, blinking down at her in shock for several long moments.

The woman crumpled at his feet was someone who would turn heads, no matter where she was – she had that ethereal, quintessential sense of beauty about her. She was a huddled mass of lean length – arms, legs, torso – all graceful, all smooth porcelain skin. Long waves of blonde hair half concealed a face built of arched angles – chin, cheeks, nose – and full lips. Her eyes were chips of emerald. Mohinder blinked. Green?

"Who are you?" he asked, watching warily as she struggled to stand. The part of him that was used to helping people, noticed she was holding an arm around her stomach in a way that screamed broken ribs. Her movements were slow and jerking.

"No one." She refused to look at him. "I'm just lost, I'll go…"

He grabbed her by the arm when she moved to turn away. "Now wait just a moment." He loosened his hold when she stiffened harshly in his grasp. "I think you owe me an explanation." He pursed his lips at her, mind whirling. "How about a cup of tea?"

* * *

They don't speak again until there are two steaming mugs of Darjeeling tea between them. Mohinder watches were swirl her spoon around his chipped china tea cup, staring aimlessly at the liquid, before he breaks the silence. "What's your name?"

For a moment, it doesn't appear as if she will answer. "Sarah," she says softly, in that melodic voice again. "Sarah Grey."

He nods, even though she is resolutely not looking at him. "And why are you here, Miss Grey?"

"I heard there was… a scientist," she presses her lips together as she pauses to think. "And that there might be something here that could… help me…"

Mohinder's eyebrows shoot up. "Help you with what?"

At that, she finally looks up at him, those green eyes hard and cold as glass, wary as any animal. "Look, I'm sorry if I scared you or whatever." She's pushing the tea away from her, starting to stand. "I'll just go and we can forget all about –"

"I'm Professor Mohinder Suresh." At his quiet statement, she freezes, staring at him equal parts thoughtful and afraid. "Now perhaps if you tell me what you're looking for…" He trails off expectantly. He is sure, very sure, he knows part of why she is here. He knows she is gifted, different. But he cannot tell exactly how, cannot tell what she might desire from his lab. There are many things she could want. When she continues to stare at him, the wheels in her head almost visibly turning, he stands, walking across the small kitchen to grab an iron skillet from atop the stove. When he turns back to her, she tenses for a fight, half-crouching in expectation, but Mohinder merely holds it before him where she can see it – and then neatly, as easily and effortlessly as breathing, bends it in half.

Her eyes widen impossibly large in her face, her mouth falling open in astonishment. She looks innocent and young in her surprise. But after a moment, she shakes off the shock and stares him dead in the face. As he watches, it's his turn to be astounded, her pupils slit vertical, her eyes bleed golden, feline. As he continues to watch, her nose changes - flattens, her cheekbones arch more severely, ears slide up her head until they're tufted, twitching cat ears. When she quirks a smile, her canines are pointed.

He watches in stunned silence as the progress reverses, until it is just her staring at him. She's rubbing at her eyes, her mouth a grimace as she runs her tongue across her gums. "I can change all the way."

"To just," he clears his throat, trying to sound more like a professional, and less like a gawking pedestrian, "to just a cat?"

She shrugs. "Anything alive, I think." When she catches his dumbstruck expression, she quirks shrugs again. "At least, I've never tried to turn into anything and haven't been able to." She watches him as he returns to the table, sitting across from her. "So… can you help me?"

He laughs, he can't help it. "Help you? Miss Grey, what could you possibly need my help for? You can become anything, anyone you want? I think the world should be lucky you're not a criminal." His dark eyes are boring into her. "What could you possibly be looking for in my lab?"

When she slumps into her chair, he starts at the suddenness of the motion, at the earnestness in her eyes – green again – "It _hurts_." The pain in her voice is ragged, and makes something clench inside his chest. "When my parents found out what I was they…. They thought I was a demon. They left me in the woods when I was little, and I had to do what I could to get by. Hunt for food, people usually feed stray dogs, you know? When I was older, I could go to soup kitchens, work, get a job. But…" Her eyes are deep pools, sad and resigned, older than her years, and Mohinder empathizes with that. "It _hurts so much_ to change. My bones ache on the inside, I feel like I'm being torn apart. Sometimes it hurts so bad I want to die…"

He knows, he _knows,_ he's looking at her with sympathy, he can't help it. It's one of his biggest faults. He's sure there's a lengthy list of people who would agree with that. Mohinder Suresh cannot turn away from someone in need, not when there might be something he can do to help.

"I just want the pain to go away…"

His heart breaks a little for her. He'd caused himself aching and pain. He'd given himself the injection to make him more than what he was born. He'd had a childhood – a life – free from it. He forgets that other people don't want their gifts, or don't want to use them but have to. Claire didn't want people to know of her gift, but if she didn't have it she'd be dead. Sarah didn't want to make her muscles and tendons and bones creak and stretch and crack, but did so in order to survive. He understood to, why she attempted to steal what she needed. Mohinder easily could have been a scientist who would have seen her genetic anomaly as something rife for experimentation. Lucky her, he wasn't.

"Of course, I'll help you."


	3. Chapter 03 Gladness

**Title:** The Happiness Trap  
 **Genre:** Romance  
 **Rating:** T  
 **Pairing:** Mohinder x OC  
 **Spoilers:** N/A  
 **Summary:** She can become anything for you. Wife, lover, best friend, wise man, fool, idol. It isn't a bad life to have everyone in the world at your beck and call.  
 **Word Count:** 1,055  
 **Warnings:** N/A

 **Disclaimer:** Not mine. Summary belongs to Star Wars: The Original Series.

 **A/N:** I am pretending Heroes: Reborn doesn't exist.

* * *

 _Gladness (noun) – (adjective, gladder, gladdest) 1. Feeling joy or pleasure; delighted; pleased 2. Accompanied by or causing joy or pleasure 3. Characterized by or showing cheerfulness, joy, or pleasure, as looks or utterances 4. Very willing_

* * *

Helping Miss Grey turned out to be easier said than done. Mohinder had done a lot of research, but mostly his testing veered in one of two directions: giving powers to someone without them, and taking powers away from someone with them. He had never tried to fine tune someone's genetics before. Things like this were light-years away, building humans inside the womb to fit spec and mod. But not with someone who was already living, someone who already had a body and had grown into it.

"Explain it to me again." He was staring at Sarah intently, his gaze focused and resolute – a scientific stare.

She sighed, making an irritated noise low in her throat. "I've told you before, I don't _know_ how it works. I just _… think_ about something else, hold the image in my mind and then," she shrugged, "then I change."

"But you can control it, right?" When she blinked, he waved his hand at her in exasperation. "You can choose to change one thing or everything, right?"

"Yeah…"

"And does everything hurt?" He had a theory that what was doing the most damage was changing into something the most unlike herself. To change into another person of the same approximate size would mean only changing superficial things (hair color, skin tone), but to change into, say, an animal, when your bones had to change shape…

"Well, no. Mostly, coming back hurts the most."

He blinked at that. Interesting. Though, he supposed, it made some strange kind of sense, if her gift was to change her form. Maybe it didn't want to go back to what it was. Maybe her gift only worked in one direction. Or maybe she changed too quickly. Or maybe it was simple shock from the growing and dissolving of mass.

"Okay, I have a few things we can try, but I'll need some things." He stared at her, one eyebrow arched in mischievous proposition. "Are you really any good getting into places you shouldn't?"

Her grin, when it came, was practically wolfish in insolence.

* * *

Over the next few months, Sarah and Mohinder came to an easy alliance. He would work to create an antidote to her painful transformations, and, in return, she would keep her ears open while she gathered ingredients. It became a routine. Throughout the week, he would give lectures and attend his classes at the University, and she would stay in his apartment, out of site.

If he was being honest, it was… nice to come home to someone for once. He had forgotten what it was like to have that sense of fullness, of unquiet that comes from having someone else living in your home. She was remarkable neat – almost like living with a cat – she never left a mess, or made undo noise. But there was a _presence_ he could sense, a feeling of not being alone.

It became harder and harder to send her out to get more and more obscure ingredients, knowing that each time it was something a little harder to filch, someplace a little easier to get caught. He knew, too, that she was exerting herself using her gift. And he knew that was hurting it, and that hurt him.

So he kept himself up at night, mixing formulas, attempting for some combination of ingredients that wouldn't take her gift away entirely. And when he collapsed into bed at night, sometimes deeply asleep even before his head hit his pillow, it was always to the worry that, even though he was trying to help her, it would be the thing that killed her.

* * *

Keys in his door awakened him in the early hours of the morning and he stumbled out of his bedroom to see how Sarah had fared. He was unprepared for her to practically collapse into his arms, only his strength and quick reflexes kept them both upright. Looking into her eyes he was started to see that they were ever-shifting. First green, then blue, then hawk's eyes, then green again. She was blinking rapidly, but unseeing.

"Miss Grey! Sarah!" Placing an arm behind her knee, he lifted her up in order to bring her to the couch. "Sarah!"

"Doctor… Suresh…?"

"Yes, I'm here." Had she shifted too much too quickly and lost control? Or could she not remember how to shift back? Either loss of control was worrisome, and could alter what formula he created for her. "Do you remember how to turn back?"

"Hm?"

"Sarah, focus on my voice." With one hand, he reached into her bag, digging around to see if she'd found everything he'd asked for. When his hand closed around a slim vial, he pulled it out, reading the label quickly before using his teeth to pull out the stopper. He wafted the lip of the vial under her nose. "Sarah, take a deep breath." He repeated his command until she complied. "There, now another. Now, I want you to focus on your eyes, close them. Now think about _your_ eyes. Can you do that?" He felt her shudder on a sigh as she finally relaxed.

When her eyes blinked open, up at him, he was viscerally relieved to see them as green as summer grass again. "Doctor Suresh… thank you."

This time when her eyes closed, he knew she was asleep – exhausted beyond understanding. But Mohinder sat there for long, long moments into the night, watching her sleep, wondering if he was doing the right thing. If he should just tell her to give up on this foolish quest. Who were they to undo what evolution had created them to be? Gift or curse – maybe there was a reason for it.


	4. Chapter 04 Cheerfulness

**Title:** The Happiness Trap  
 **Genre:** Romance  
 **Rating:** T  
 **Pairing:** Mohinder x OC  
 **Spoilers:** N/A  
 **Summary:** She can become anything for you. Wife, lover, best friend, wise man, fool, idol. It isn't a bad life to have everyone in the world at your beck and call.  
 **Word Count:** 717  
 **Warnings:** N/A

 **Disclaimer:** Not mine. Summary belongs to Star Wars: The Original Series.

 **A/N:** I am pretending Heroes: Reborn doesn't exist.

* * *

 _Cheerfulness (noun) – (adjective, cheerful) 1. Full of cheer; in good spirits 2. Promoting or inducing cheer; pleasant; bright 3. Characterized by or expressive of good spirits or cheerfulness 4. Hearty or ungrudging_

* * *

"Miss Grey, here – try this." He waited until her attention dragged away from the market – the sights and sounds of his home – before offering her a piece of papaya. It was hard to come by, since usually the market stands sold out immediately. But on a hot day, it was heaven, and worth the early morning trek to the square. As she bit into the fruit, her eyes lit up, and he smiled at her charm.

Two months. It had been two months since she had broken into his apartment, looking for a cure, since they had come to live together. And he still knew very little about her. They knew little about each other, he amended, watching her peruse through the stalls, eyes bright and intent. He hadn't asked how she found him, had asked her nothing really, except questions about her powers and how they worked. It was like living with a science experiment – but one that walked and talked and breathed.

When she paused in front of a stall that had a Golden Langur perched on the table, Mohinder stopped as well to watch her. A part of him was wondering how the shop owner was managing to blatantly display India's endangered primate in the middle of a market square where it was not native. Most of him was simply entranced by the quicksilver intelligence in Sarah's eyes as she took in the monkey. Her eyes tracked it's movements as predatorily as any tiger, gears whirling in her eyes – her eyes –

Her eyes that were slowly shifting, changing. Her hands, when she reached out to offer her palm to the creature, were sprouting long tufts of golden hair –

"So how did you come to be in India, Miss Grey?"

At his sharply asked question, she started, turning to him. He watched the human fade back into her eyes, the change reverting. He wondered if she had even been aware of it. She shrugged as they began walking again, glancing back once more at the Langur, before letting her eyes trail over stalls full of cloth and spices, produce and wine. "To find you."

Mohinder blinked. Somehow he had never realized she had traveled here _specifically_ for him, thinking only that she sought him out because they were in the same country. "Ah –"

A small smile bloomed on her face. "Don't take it too personally, Doctor. I've been to many countries, spoken to many doctors… Though, none of them had gifts, so I couldn't really explain myself to them." She picked up a brightly patterned scarf, letting the fabric run through her fingers, eyes unfocused and distant. "It was always hard to explain to them _what_ I wanted from them, why I needed it."

When she trailed off, he broke the silence. "It's alright, you don't have to explain that to me, Miss Grey. I of all people should know the risks that come with certain gifts." Her brow creased, so he gestured for her to follow him, and they walked for several long moments in quiet. "All I wanted was to be different. But when I awakened by genes, when I... changed myself," he swallowed thickly, "I was… different. Angry. Violent." His eyes, when they stared into hers were guilty and ashamed. "I had to find a way to make myself better – something more normal – or I wouldn't be able to live."

He jerked when a delicate hand reached out and grabbed his wrist. Emerald eyes were soft, there was no judgment there. "Then I guess we're a perfect match."

As they walked back to their apartment, Sarah let their fingers intertwine, and neither one of them thought about letting go.


	5. Chapter 05 Joy

**Title:** The Happiness Trap  
 **Genre:** Romance  
 **Rating:** T  
 **Pairing:** Mohinder x OC  
 **Spoilers:** N/A  
 **Summary:** She can become anything for you. Wife, lover, best friend, wise man, fool, idol. It isn't a bad life to have everyone in the world at your beck and call.  
 **Word Count:** 1,591  
 **Warnings:** N/A

 **Disclaimer:** Not mine. Summary belongs to Star Wars: The Original Series.

 **A/N:** I am pretending Heroes: Reborn doesn't exist.

* * *

 _Joy (noun) 1. The emotion of great delight or happiness caused by something exceptionally good or satisfying; keen pleasure; elation 2. A source or cause of keen pleasure or delight; something or someone greatly valued or appreciated 3. The expression or display of glad feeling; festive gaiety 4. A state of happiness of felicity_

* * *

Joy isn't found in life as a whole – it is found in singular moments. When these moments outweigh the bad, when they outnumber the moments of unhappiness, then a life has been a happy one. But these moments, inconsequential when they happen, are, without a doubt, the most important part of an individual's life. They are fleeting, small, almost meaningless, but when one looks back on their life, years and years down the road, one finds they were larger than they appeared. Important. Everything.

* * *

The lab is small, crowded, now with the two of them there. The room had been, originally, a spare bedroom, but was now full of cabinets, a cluttered desk, a long table covered with experiments and paperwork. When Mohinder worked alone it was crowded. He had once had an assistant – a flighty young grad student who was always equal parts awe and uncertainty working with him – who was there only to record experiments and attempt to keep some level of order in the room. But with the two of them it was twice as crowded, she was always in his way, had actually hindered more experiments than she'd helped, from bumping into him at inopportune moments.

But Sarah wasn't an adolescent grad student. She was a (beautiful) young woman, she danced around his lab like a ballerina, never upsetting a single vial, never disturbing a stack of papers with her passing. But even then, there was only one table: shoulders brushed, fingers touched, they pressed against each other back-to-back in a searing line of contact for brief moments.

Maybe it was too crowded.

* * *

The first time Mohinder made his grandmother's pork vindaloo, he wasn't thinking about the spice. He was thinking about a family recipe and sharing a piece of his heritage with Sarah. But when she took her first bite and her eyes filled with tears he suddenly remembered how hot the dish actually was, especially when you weren't prepared for it.

"Miss Grey…?" He reached out, but she was scrambling back from the table, knocking her chair over in her haste to dash to the fridge. He watched, sheepishly, as she grabbed the carton of milk and began chugging from it too quickly milk was spilling down the sides of her mouth, dribbling down the column of her throat.

When she spun to him, eyes flashing, milk pooling on her shirt, mouth white-moustached, and demanded of him, " _Are you trying to kill me?!"_ Mohinder couldn't help it.

He laughed.

* * *

Once, unexpectedly, Peter comes to visit. He's young and bright-eyed, looking around with keen intellect and interest. When he spots Sarah, curled up in front of the coffee table, books and notepads spread before her, The Princess Bride playing the television, those bright eyes focus with pinpoint accuracy on her. Mohinder can see him trying to work her out, why is she here, what is her gift, what is she like?

Feeling the weight of his stare, she lifts her head as slowly as a jungle cat, pinning him with her emerald stare, eyes sweeping over him from head to toe, before a slow smile graces her lips. Mohinder feels the force of that smile down to his toes, along with the slow, curl of… _something_ … deep in his gut. When Peter perks up at her smile, as eager as a young dog, Mohinder feels that something start to simmer.

"Peter Petrelli," he says, extending a hand to her, which she reaches out to grasp.

"Sarah Grey." Their hands are touching, fleeting, their eyes on watching each other. Mohinder is about the clear his throat to interrupt the moment, when Sarah takes back her hand, asking, "Are you one of Doctor Suresh's grad students, Mr. Petrelli?"

A laugh. "Oh no, me and Mohinder here go way back." Peter claps him on the back in a show of comradery. "Don't we, buddy?" Mohinder doesn't have to force the smile that comes.

But Sarah smiles with blinding intensity then. "Ah! You're very lucky! We've only known each other for a little while." Her eyes soften. "I would love to hear more about him."

That dark something that had been stewing in his stomach since Peter came in suddenly shifts into something else, something that curls from his stomach into his throat, stealing his breath, hitching the air in his lungs.

* * *

Some nights, they take their work from the lab and spread it across the kitchen table or the living room floor, needing the space, needing to see everything together. More than once, one or the other of them pass out on the floor, in a chair. But every once in a while, one of them will lean back, cracking the arch of their spine, their fingers, and declare their eyes too sore to continue. And they'll migrate to the couch, curling up at opposite ends to watch whatever movie is playing on late night cable.

Mohinder has never been a fan of horror movies, having seen too much real horror in his life to be affected by it anymore. But Sarah still jumps when things spring from around corners, still tenses at the horror movie soundtrack music. Sometimes shifting close enough for him to place a hesitant arm around her, a move he hasn't performed since he was sixteen and went to the movies with Lalita Anand and his palms were sweating so much he thought for sure she'd feel it.

But once, after a long week of work at the college, and a long week of late nights in his lab, Mohinder doesn't even notice what movie is playing. When he settles onto one end of the couch, with Sarah curled up at the other, his eyes close and he is immediately, deeply asleep.

A shaft of early dawn sunlight pierces the window hours later, directly onto his face, and it pulls him from the recesses of sleep. For a moment, he is misplaced, confused as to where he is. His couch, yes. But how…

His pillow shifts underneath him and he realizes with a start that, at some point last night, he much have slid sideways, his legs are stretched across the couch, his pillow is actually Sarah's lap, and his arms are wrapped around her hips just as if she were his actual pillow. She seems unconcerned, still asleep, one of her hands resting easily on his head, fingers tangled in his hair, as if she had been running her hands through it when she fell asleep.

He thinks long and deep about getting up, but it is Saturday and it is still early. So he closes his eyes again, and drifts back to sleep, deeply and contently.

* * *

Months go by like this, little stolen moments all adding up, all piling on top of one another, until, without fail, of course, something is bound to break. For Mohinder, the moment is a spring day. It is Holi, the Festival of Colors, and it is an innocent invitation on Mohinder's part to invite Sarah to something so cultural, something so familiar to him. He thinks she will love the bright colors, the hundreds of people, families with their children, the sights and sounds of people praying.

But he does not expect how she will drag him into the morning Rangwali Holi festival the next dawn, laughing and exuberant as they are both smeared and covered with paint. When she turns to him, her face and hair are a riot of color – her eyes glowing like green lamps behind a smear of purple paint, her neck is a handprint of blue and he wonders who touched her to give it to her, there are handprints on her arms, her shirt, her pants. It irritates him to see those marks, since he gave her none of them. Her hair is streaked with flecks of green and yellow and red. And she is grinning at him in unabashed joy.

There is no room for thought, no moment between him seeing her and him pulling her to him by her wrist, crushing their mouths together. She tastes like paint and sweat and salt – but her mouth yields under his. He twists her wrist in his grasp so he can intertwine their fingers, his free hand trailing over her, replacing each handprint on her with one of his own, his mark, his. Her hand tangles in his hair, striping it blue, but he doesn't care, just presses her closer.

From far away, he hears the happy crowd cheer at the display and his lips curl into a smile against hers.

* * *

But moments like this are only so beautiful because they are weighed against moments of darkness. For their can be no light without darkness, no day with night, no joy without despair.


	6. Chapter 06 Glee

**Title:** The Happiness Trap  
 **Genre:** Romance  
 **Rating:** T  
 **Pairing:** Mohinder x OC  
 **Spoilers:** N/A  
 **Summary:** She can become anything for you. Wife, lover, best friend, wise man, fool, idol. It isn't a bad life to have everyone in the world at your beck and call.  
 **Word Count:** 1,372  
 **Warnings:** N/A

 **Disclaimer:** Not mine. Summary belongs to Star Wars: The Original Series.

 **A/N:** I am pretending Heroes: Reborn doesn't exist.

* * *

 _Glee (noun) 1. Open delight or pleasure; exultant joy; exultation_

* * *

When Sarah arrives back at the apartment, her arms are laden with groceries weighing down her arms, and she has to juggle everything back and forth on the landing for several long minutes before wrestling the key out of her pocket. It proved unneeded though, because the first light touch of her hand on the door causes it to swing open. She lifts her head in anticipation, expecting to see Mohinder on the other side, amusement at her predicament shining through those chocolate eyes. But that's not what she sees.

The groceries fall to the floor in a violent thud, oranges go rolling, a milk carton cracks and begins to trickle rivets across the foyer and into the hall. The room is an explosion of chaos. The couch fallen on its back, the table in pieces, the television a shattered mess across the opposite wall. The door to the lab has been wrenched from its hinges and, as she steps delicately across the room, she sees a flurry of papers and smashed vials. And there is blood, vividly red arterial blood, smeared across the counter, pooled onto the floor.

But there is no Mohinder.

Panic surges up her throat, choking off her breath, making her gasp for air. She doesn't realize she's falling until her knees slam into the ground. No, no, no, this can't be happening. He had only been trying to help her, what if they'd come for her and taken him, killed him, instead. A sob wrenches from her throat. There was so much blood…

What should she do? She couldn't go to the police, they might not want to help her if she explained why someone would want to take Mohinder, why people might be looking for her. Peter? He was gifted, he would help, but she didn't know how to reach him, how to contract any of Mohinder's old friends from the United States. She had to comrades herself. People tended not to trust you when you could be anything you wanted, when they couldn't trust what your face looked like. She had nothing, no one to turn to, no one to help her, no way to look for him –

Her eyes fell across a haphazard spray of papers strewn across the living room floor, spilling from the lab like a paper river. The one in front of her was a chart depicting the mass she lost or gained during transformation, testing to find a limit, trying to find where it came from or went. A mouse, a horse, an elephant –

Her tear filled eyes paused.

A dog.

It was easy in her terror to focus on the image in her mind, to ignore the pain of her kneecaps snapping backwards, her jaw cracking to elongate, her spine shooting out several feel of tail. It hurt, but it was necessary, so it was all ignored. She forced her way through the changes until, with a popping feeling, her mind shifted from human to canine, her thoughts a close second to the now forerunning thoughts of the bloodhound.

She was worried. There should be a human here, but there wasn't. But there was stuff to look at! No – focus! Human! Must find him. She sniffed around the papers, snorting and huffing at the unfamiliar smells of people. The pool of blood made her whine low and worried, but the smell there was strong. Mohinder. She knew him, she had to find him. With her head low to the ground she started rotating around the room, her ears sweeping the floor, bringing more smells to her nose. At the door, the smell left, the trail leaving the apartment. Her tail started to wag.

She could follow him now.

* * *

Mohinder groaned as he slipped from unconsciousness into wakefulness. His head was throbbing, his muscles ached, there was a coppery tang in his mouth. Sitting made his vision swirl dangerously so he pressed his eyes tightly closed as he tried to orient himself. He'd been working in the lab when his front door slammed open. They'd overpowered him, outnumbered him, but he was sure he'd managed to injure several of them in the melee. His knuckles were grazed and torn as evidence. But a solid blow to the back of his head had rendered him incapacitated enough for them to tie his hands behind him and drag him from his home. He'd fallen unconscious somewhere along the way.

He had no idea where he was. Only that the first time he woke up he'd been in the back of a darkly tinted van, stoic faces staring down at him condescendingly. The uniforms…

His breath hissed out of him. The Organization.

When he'd began to struggle against his restraints someone had slammed his head into the door and he'd slumped back into nothingness.

Now he was in a cell. No fancy glass walls here, just gritty prison bars that – when he hesitantly reached out to see if he could snap them – sent surges of electricity coursing through him. So strong that he tasted still could taste the tang of energy on the back of his tongue. That would have been too easy.

He spent long hours drifting over every inch of his cell, looking for a weakness, a way out, a camera, a connection to the outside world. But there was nothing. No one came to visit him or speak of their plans or explained why he was here. No one gave him food or water or told him where he was. He heard no noises from potential other cells. It was if he was alone down here in the cage, and he wondered if they were going to leave him here to rot.

But suddenly, noise. His head tilted as he focused on the sound. Nail scrambling across tile, huffing breaths, panting. As the sounds came closer, his nerves wound tighter and tighter, muscles bowstring taut as he tensed for whatever was about to come around the corner.

It was a very anti-climactic feeling when what did slip around the corner, paws sliding and scraping on the smooth floor, was a dog.

A dog (a bloodhound, he amended), that bounded frantically up to the bars of his cell, yelping when they shocked him. The dog then wiggled and squirmed on the opposite side of his prison, tail wagging, a bright-eyed, open-mouth dog smile on its face. So happy, was the hound, that it was whining low in its throat at the sight of him.

Mohinder blinked in confusion.

The feeling melted away in the next moment when the dog began to shift and alter, limbs lengthening, face shortening. Black and tan fur melted into smooth porcelain skin, brown eyes slide into emerald green. Mohinder watched the transformation with fascination, before terror that Sarah was here began to churn in his gut. It was only after she had completely changed and stood up that he remembered that clothing was not something she was able to change with herself.

" _Mohinder_ ," she breathes out, reaching for him through the bars without touching them.

He takes her hand blindly, but his face is resolutely turned away. He is sure that, even with his darker complexion, his cheeks are ruddy with a blush. There is no way to erase the image that seared into his mind for those few, brief seconds. Miles of endless miles of smooth, milky skin, breasts pert and perfect, hips flared – the perfect size for his hands – and lower –

He clenches his eyes closed, willing himself to think of something, anything, else. "S- Sarah." It takes him two tries to stumble out her name. "What – what are you _doing_ here? The Organization – "

"Would like to make a deal with you."


	7. Chapter 07 Bliss

**Title:** The Happiness Trap  
 **Genre:** Romance  
 **Rating:** T  
 **Pairing:** Mohinder x OC  
 **Spoilers:** N/A  
 **Summary:** She can become anything for you. Wife, lover, best friend, wise man, fool, idol. It isn't a bad life to have everyone in the world at your beck and call.  
 **Word Count:** 832  
 **Warnings:** N/A

 **Disclaimer:** Not mine. Summary belongs to Star Wars: The Original Series.

 **A/N:** I am pretending Heroes: Reborn doesn't exist.

* * *

 _Bliss (noun) 1. Supreme happiness; utter joy or contentment 2. Theology: the joy of heaven 3. Heaven; paradise 4. Archaic: a cause of great joy or happiness_

* * *

The both spun, startled at the sudden voice, cultured and clipped. Mohinder couldn't help the sweep his eyes made of the expanse of Sarah's shoulders and spine, the curve of her butt, but then he focused on the new woman. Tailored black pencil skirt and jacket, stilettos, brunette hair pulled into a sever bun. She could be a librarian if it weren't for the firearm holstered on her hip. There was a photo ID pinned to her blouse. Diana Jones.

"A deal?" Sarah's voice is thick with disbelief and Mohinder has to wonder if she'll ever remember that she's naked.

The next moment, Jones snaps her hand and someone marches briskly down the hall – a man in a suit and darkly tinted glasses – and hands Sarah a robe, then walks away again just as swiftly. From the way Sarah slides into the garment, her cheeks dusted red, she had indeed forgotten. She is resolutely not looking at him, and he feels his face heat inexplicably again.

"How cute." They turn to the woman again, she is glancing back and forth between the two of them with interest and intelligence. "As I said, Miss Grey," she emphasized the name, letting them know she knew very well who they both were, "The Organization would like to make a deal with you." Her gesture encompassed both Sarah and Mohinder in his cell. He was starting to have an inkling where this was going.

Sarah look angry and scared, she had the robe pulled tightly around her, but her voice didn't waver when she asked, "What kind of deal?"

"We've been tracking you and we're interested in what you can do. We would like you to work with us, partner with one of our agents." She paused and Mohinder knew what she was going to offer even before she continued. "In return we would, of course, be willing to let Doctor Suresh go."

"Sarah – no – " His voice is ragged, he is reaching through the bars, but she is ignoring him. They'll make her change over and over, she'll be used to do terrible things. "Please, Sarah, don't do this for me – "

But he can see the wheels in her head turning and turning, thinking, weighing her life against his, weighing his freedom against hers. "Work with you how?"

A gleam lights in Jones' eyes as she sees that Sarah is wavering, almost certain to agree. "The Organization was established to protect the citizens of the world. We have agents on all seven continents, trained for all aspects of espionage and surveillance. They are trained to track mutants and ascertain whether or not they are a threat to society."

"And just how do you _ascertain_ that?" Mohinder scoffs. "By deciding who you think is dangerous or not?"

Jones' eyes are boring. "I would say decisions are like deciding who is a danger to the world – Peter Petrelli or Sylar." When he blinks, she nods. "So you see, we can take the personality of an individual into account when making our assessment."

"But what do you need me for?"

Jones turned back to Sarah. "Yes, we partner a non-gifted agent with a gifted one, so that there is two differing points of view when verifying the threat. We would like to partner you with one of our single agents. You would be used in some of our espionage missions, going undercover into mutant dens, things of that nature. Some gifted individuals are so hidden from the world that it takes drastic measures to sniff them out." She stared for a long, silent moment at Sarah. "Your… talents… would prove most useful in those situations."

She is quiet for so long that Mohinder knows she's thinking about it. "Sarah…" She doesn't turn. " _Sarah_." She finally turns and faces him, her eyes tortured and terrified. She does not want to stay with these people, does not want to work for them tracking down her own people. But she does not want harm to come to him. "Sarah, don't do this." He tries to convey just how serious he is. "I've seen companies like this before. It is always worse than it seems. Please, I'll be alright, go – "

"We will kill him if you refuse us."

Sarah's eyes widen impossibly large in her face and Mohinder feels his heart sink at the sight. He knows she will not refuse them now.


	8. Chapter 08 Delight

**Title:** The Happiness Trap  
 **Genre:** Romance  
 **Rating:** T  
 **Pairing:** Mohinder x OC  
 **Spoilers:** N/A  
 **Summary:** She can become anything for you. Wife, lover, best friend, wise man, fool, idol. It isn't a bad life to have everyone in the world at your beck and call.  
 **Word Count:** 1,433  
 **Warnings:** N/A

 **Disclaimer:** Not mine. Summary belongs to Star Wars: The Original Series.

 **A/N:** I am pretending Heroes: Reborn doesn't exist.

* * *

 _Delight (noun) 1. A high degree of pleasure or enjoyment; joy; rapture 2. Something that gives great pleasure (verb) 3. To give great pleasure, satisfaction, or enjoyment to; please highly_

* * *

"Ugh!" With a violent shout, Mohinder throws the beaker in his hands against the nearest wall, where it shatters satisfyingly into a thousand pieces. As the contents drip down the walls and onto the floor, he rubs his tired eyes, slouching back into his chair. He was working himself ragged trying to find a formula that would prevent Sarah from being in intense pain every time she transformed, but so far he'd had no luck.

And the worst of it was, the longer she worked for The Organization, the more they made her use her gift, and the more it affected her. Some nights she didn't make it home, and he paced holes in the floor waiting for her to return, sure that this would be the night that she would never return, that The Organization had betrayed her, had killed her, had let her die. So far she had always come back, exhausted and delirious the next morning or afternoon. Some nights he passed out, too tired to try and wait for her, and he woke with a dog or a different person curled against him, on nights she was too tired or to unwilling to feel pain to change back.

Every time he felt like he was onto something, something would hitch, would go wrong. Lavender extract had been so promising in several of his oral medicines. It was soothing, a calming herbal remedy. But it was never enough, mostly it helped Sarah after her transformations, not during. And there was no pattern to what hurt. Now that she was tired, almost everything hurt. But somedays she said she's change with no issues. Before The Organization, sometimes she'd go days, even a week without a transformation causing her a problem. Mohinder just couldn't figure out _why_.

With a sigh, he put down his notes, knowing he wouldn't get any more work done tonight. Glancing at the clock, he noted it was still early enough that he could probably sleep for a few hours and wake up in time to await Sarah's return. He stumbled into bed, asleep before his head even hit the pillow.

* * *

Scratching woke him hours later, and he rolled over, bleary eyed and blinking at his bedroom window. An orange tabby was seated there, staring at him belligerently. Even as he watched, the feline lifted one paw to the glass and cocked its head to the side, waiting. Mohinder staggered out of bed, the sheets tangled around his legs. His shirt twisted around his neck uncomfortably and he took a moment to wrench it over his head. When he opened the window, the cat nimbly darted in, jumping up to the bed and spinning to face him, eyes bright.

When Mohinder sat on the edge of the bed, Sarah arched her feline spine, enticing him to scratch and pet. When he complied, a quiet purr filled the silence. He smiled when she rolled over, forcing him to scratch her belly as he leaned back until he was lying down once again.

It was a long moment before he realized that the soft, padded underbelly of a cat at shifted into something more human, more intimate. He glanced hesitantly down, not wanting to see something he shouldn't. They were still new in their relationship – in the sense that their time alone, time that could be construed as 'dates' was few and far between. Her life was hard enough, Mohinder didn't want to push her into something more personal before she was ready.

But when he looked down, all thoughts of keeping boundaries faded, because whatever else she was – tired, broken, scared – Sarah Grey was beautiful.

The solid length of her spine was pressed against him, a searing line of heat that started at his hip and went all the way up to his shoulder. But she was still part feline, her cat's ears twitching against his armpit, tickling but not unpleasant. An orange tail was draped across his hips, still and steady. And the quiet purr given off by her tiny feline body had changed into a deep rumble. When he reached around with the hand not trapped under her body to scratch between her ears, her spine arched against him, fingers curling and uncurling against the sheets.

"Do you need any lavender oil?" He was whispering, not wanting to break the moment.

"Hm, no." She was still arching her spine restlessly against him and he shifted his lower half away from her, not wanting her to realize its effect on him. "I feel perfect."

Even in the moment, he frowned. Interesting. She should be drained, that always made her transformation more painful. He wondered what was different about tonight-

Thought fled when she flipped smoothly over, straddling him, tail visibly lashing over her back, her hands pressed to his shoulders. He tried to be a gentleman, but he couldn't help it. He looked down.

So much skin. Smooth and pale and soft, his fingers ached to touch. His mouth watered at those full breasts just inches in front of him. The only thing between them was his checkered sleep pants. Without them, it would only take one thrust – he forcibly stilled the restless shifting of his hips, forced his eyes to glance up, a long sweep up over that naked expanse that made him swallow thickly. When he met her gaze his throat dried, his tongue felt like sandpaper in his mouth. Her eyes were intense, focused. Green, but with cat's pupils that he was sure could see every ounce of lust in own face. They practically glowed in the dark.

"It's the strangest thing." Her eyes were darting across his face, down his throat. "I changed so many times today, I was prepared to sleep curled up next to you as a cat." Her fingers were starting to knead into his flesh, nails pricking just so slightly, sending tingles down his spine, making him resume his restless shifting, wanting, needing… "But then you took off your shirt and suddenly," her hands slid down his chest, making him gasp, "I felt wide… awake…" She was leaning back now, her weight pressing down over the core of him, surely she could feel what she was doing to him, how much he wanted her. "And changing back didn't hurt at all."

That was interesting. It really was very interesting. But honestly, at the moment, he didn't care at all. He grabbed those delicate wrists tightly, before arching up and up, until he could flip them over, slamming her into the mattress and looming over her. Her legs wrapped naturally around his hips, her fingers flexed in his grasp from where he pinned them by her side. She titled her chin up at him, an invitation he was powerless to refuse.

"Are you sure about this?" He hated himself for being noble sometimes, he really did.

When she smiled at him, it was like watching the sun rise. "I'm sure, Mohinder." After a pause, her smile turned into a smirk, and she arched bowstring tight into him. "Now, _Doctor_ ," his title was a purr that made him aching for her, "don't you want to give me checkup?"

With a groan, he collapsed onto her, mouths crushing together. And he didn't think about anything else for a long, long time.

* * *

In the early dawn light, they lay wrapped in one another, Mohinder's hand trailing aimlessly down Sarah's spine. As he watched, the ears and tail faded away. "Did that hurt?"

"No, not even a little."

"Hm, I wonder why that is…"

"I don't know." She snuggled closer into the curl of his side. "But I'm too tired to think about any of that now." She was yawning even as she spoke.

"Then sleep, _jaan_ ," he urges, his own eyes beginning to drift close in contentment, forcing his whirling thoughts to still.

The last this he heard before he drifted off was Sarah whispering against his chest. "I've never been this happy."


	9. Chapter 09 Exhilaration

**Title:** The Happiness Trap  
 **Genre:** Romance  
 **Rating:** T  
 **Pairing:** Mohinder x OC  
 **Spoilers:** N/A  
 **Summary:** She can become anything for you. Wife, lover, best friend, wise man, fool, idol. It isn't a bad life to have everyone in the world at your beck and call.  
 **Word Count:** 1,242  
 **Warnings:** N/A

 **Disclaimer:** Not mine. Summary belongs to Star Wars: The Original Series.

 **A/N:** I am pretending Heroes: Reborn doesn't exist.

* * *

 _Exhilaration (noun) – (verb: exhilarate) 1. To enliven invigorate; stimulate 2. To make cheerful or merry_

* * *

The next few days are a blur for Mohinder. His days are full of experiments, his nights are full of Sarah. They know they should both spend more time sleeping, but they are too desperate for each other, wanting, needing to sink into one another. They won't trade that for more sleep even if they had to. And as the nights continue, lengthening from one week, into two, where Sarah tells him that, when she is with him, like this, she never hurts. Not even a little.

And he finds that both flattering and interesting.

He does endless tests, takes blood samples, tracks brain waves, until he thinks he hits on something. He doesn't tell Sarah, doesn't want to get her hopes up. But he builds his cure into a perfect pill form and gives it to her, giving her a blanket statement, telling her it should help with the pain, but not even beginning to hint to her what he _hopes_ it will do.

Later, in a flurry of wings and feathers that are already changing as she lands, Sarah flies through his open window and into his bedroom. She is already throwing himself at him and he fell onto the bed with an oomph as she crashed into him, hair still feathered, eyes still golden. "What did you give me?!"

His heart crumbles. It didn't work. "I'm sorry, I thought it – "

"It was _amazing_." Her eyes are green again, bright and happy. He freezes. "Nothing hurt, everything was so _easy_." She is sitting up, straddling him, unconcerned or forgetful in her excitement of her nakedness. "I could change into anything, whatever, it was like breathing." She presses her lips to his. " _Thank you_." When she pulls back her eyes practically glow with emotion, tears pricking at the corners. "How did you do it?"

He struggles to sit up, so they're face to face, her legs wrapped around him. He forces himself to focus on his explanation and not just how deep he knows he can slide into her from his position. "Well, it was something you said, actually." She titled her head at him. "When you said that it didn't hurt to change when you were here… with me…" He is suddenly shy, like a child. "It's because you're happy." He's practically mumbling now. "Because you're happy… with me…"

She doesn't dispute that, but still seems confused, unsure of the connection.

"Normally when you change, you're frightened or scared or being forced to. But here you're none of that. You're just… happy." He pauses. "It' the endorphins. They flood your brain and make the change smooth and easy. So I created an edible endorphin that you can take at any time. They should last about twelve hours – " He's cut off when she kisses him again.

"Thank you, thank you!" She breathing the words against his lips.

"It was nothing, I –"

"No, it was you!" Her eyes are directly in front of him. "You're my cure."

There's nothing he can say to that, so he just pulls her closer and holds her tight.

* * *

Sarah can barely contain herself the next few days, throwing herself into working with The Organization with abandon, not because she cares about their cause, but because it is a freedom to change without feeling pain. Some days she leaves Mohinder so incandescently happy in the morning that she doesn't take a pill, and just the thought of him waiting for her in their apartment is enough to last her all day.

"Miss Grey, we have an assignment for you."

She looks up at Agent Jones. Quirking an eyebrow, she awaits more information.

"A pair of field agents have come across a hostile mutant in downtown Mumbai. His has been uncooperative with our demands, and we feel he is becoming dangerous."

"Uncooperative how?"

"We feel his skill set would be beneficial to The Organization and he is refusing our offer."

"Skills?"

"Telepathy."

Sarah frowns. She supposes she could see how that would be dangerous, but it sounds like he just wants to live his life. "And you want me to…"

"I need you to get Agent Bleaker close enough to take out the hostile."

Sarah gapes. " _What_?! But he hasn't done anything!"

"It is not for you to question our methods, Miss Grey. Have you forgotten our deal?"

"So what, if I decide I don't want to work for you anymore, you'll just kill me, too?" She is standing now, vibrating with anger.

"Of course not, Miss Grey." Jones' eyes are piercing as they stare at her. "Is that what you wish?"

Sarah's thoughts are a whirlwind. She isn't stupid. She doesn't believe Jones for a second that they wouldn't hurt her, but Sarah also knows something they don't. That she can change with absolute ease now, which makes her much more formidable and dangerous. She can protect herself, she can protect Mohinder. She tilts her chin up defiantly. "Yes, that is what I wish."

That's the last thing she remembers for a long time.

* * *

She has flashes of half-waking, but they are pain-filled and terrible, so she always allows the blissfulness of unconsciousness to pull her back under. But this time she is startled awake with chemicals, the medicine surging through her system violently, making her twitch and shiver with energy. Awake now for the first time in – how long? – she realizes that she _aches_. She hasn't hurt like this ever before. Her bones feel brittle, her teeth feel heavy in her mouth, her organs feel cramped and twisted.

"Ah, Miss Grey, welcome back."

She recognizes Jones' voice, but she can't focus her blurry eyes on her, can only see her outline. "What…" Her voice rasps like she hasn't used it in weeks. It hurt to talk.

"I told you we would not kill you, Miss Grey, should you wish to leave. But you are simply too much of a marvel to let go." Sarah is blinking at her in confusion, trying to lift her arms, but realizing they are chained to the table she is lying on. "If we can duplicate your gift, think of the weapons we could create."

She is struggling in earnest now against her bonds. "Let me… go…"

"We'll release you when we've gathered the necessary information from you, Miss Grey. Our doctors here are perfected a way to plant images in your subconscious and stimulate your brain in order to force your change. Though it would be so much easier if you would just cooperate." She waited expectantly.

"Never… help… you…"

Jones nodded curtly. "Very well. We'll continue in this manner until we are finished with you." Her smile is dark. "Or until this kills you."

"Mo…hinder…"

"We have notified him that your continued partnership with us has become permanent and therefore he has no more need to further his research on your behalf."

Well at least they weren't going after him.


	10. Chapter 10 Ecstasy

**Title:** The Happiness Trap  
 **Genre:** Romance  
 **Rating:** T  
 **Pairing:** Mohinder x OC  
 **Spoilers:** N/A  
 **Summary:** She can become anything for you. Wife, lover, best friend, wise man, fool, idol. It isn't a bad life to have everyone in the world at your beck and call.  
 **Word Count:** 1,418  
 **Warnings:** N/A

 **Disclaimer:** Not mine. Summary belongs to Star Wars: The Original Series.

 **A/N:** I am pretending Heroes: Reborn doesn't exist.

* * *

 _Ecstasy (noun) 1. Rapturous delight 2. An overpowering emotion or exaltation; a state of sudden, intense feeling 3. The frenzy of poetic inspiration_

* * *

It is weeks, _weeks_ , of Mohinder stewing himself into an angered panic, trying to make a plan, trying to plan a suicide mission where he could rescue Sarah, before he works himself into an absolute hysteric. This was his fault, _his_. If he wouldn't have been so stupid, getting captured like an idiot, then she would never have made this deal, would never have forced herself to work for them to protect him. When he created – found – the cure, he should have just taken her and run. There are hundreds of places to go. There could have started a new life. He could have kept her safe.

"Yo, Mohinder, you here man?" His head lifts at Peter's voice, and he make a noncommittal noise in his lab. "I was in the neighborhood and thought I'd – whoa!" He knows when Peter steps into the room, takes in the mess of papers, the dirty clothes Mohinder is wearing, the fact that he hasn't shaved or brushed his hair in weeks. "Bro, are you okay?" His eyes are quick and bright with intelligence. "Is Sarah okay?"

Mohinder slumps, hands shaking, and Peter rushes forward, taking a wrist in his hand, taking stock of his pulse, watching his pupils. Ever the paramedic. "She… The Organization…" He can't get the words out.

"Easy, easy, buddy, take it slow." He helps Mohinder stand. "From the state of your hygiene, I'm guessing you haven't eaten in a while. Why don't you clean yourself up, I'll grab some food, and then you can start at the beginning."

He gives a tired nod of acceptance and heads towards his shower.

Later, seated at his table – showered, shaved, in clean clothes – seated before a plate of fast food, with Peter across from him, Mohinder starts at the beginning. He they met, what she could so, what she needed from her, why she was working for them. Peter laughed so hard tears streamed from the corners of his eyes when Mohinder fleetingly mentioned her endorphins, her feelings of happiness he caused her, led him to a cure. And the letter he had received from The Organization, basically stating that they had taken Sarah and not to come looking for her. He could read between the lines.

He didn't even want to think about what they were doing to her.

"Sounds like you need someone with a different skillset that yours." When Mohinder looks up the table, Peter grins at him. "Just tell me what you need me to do, bud."

And for the first time since this happened, Mohinder feels something like hope curl in his chest.

* * *

Sarah is delirious with pain when the sirens start, not even sure the sound is really there or if she is just hallucinating. Or maybe it is another experiment. Maybe her ears will change to dog's ears and the sound will make them bleed. Or her eyes will shift to eagle eyes and the flashing lights will blind her. She doesn't even care anymore. She hurts. Everything hurts. The Organization is thorough. They test her skills at the base, they make her change and test her senses again. How quickly can she change? How many times before she passes out? Can she combine transformations? Can she create new people to change into?

She has changed so many times, had so many chemicals pumped into her veins, so many tests, incisions, that she can't remember where she is most days. Was there life before this? Most days she just hoped that this would be the day they finally killed her.

Rough hands grab her and she can't help the scream it wrenches from her throat at the pain. The blurry image of a guard stares down at her. He eyes ache, but… it almost looks as if he is concerned. "Sarah?" Her name is hesitant, unsure. His features blur, and suddenly it is Peter looking down at her.

She blinks. "Peter?" She can barely whisper his name. His throat hurts.

"Oh, thank God! I wasn't sure if it was – " He disappears from her view, but she feels him wrench the restraints on her wrists and ankles apart. "Okay, now this is going to hurt, but I need you to be quiet, okay?" His voice is soothing, lulling, a bedside voice. When he lifts her bridal style she hisses in pain, but swallows another scream. He barely makes it two steps out the door of her cell before she is unconscious.

* * *

She sleeps for almost a week after they get her back to the apartment and Peter doctor's her up. Mohinder refuses to leave her side – takes a sabbatical from work, has his groceries delivered in. Peter tells him it is her body's way of recuperating after all that she has gone through. She should be fine, physically. But it will be good for her to have someone who cares from her watching over her when she wakes up. Mohinder takes that to heart.

But he can't stop his eyes from trailing over her, tracking the differences. Questions, so many questions… When her eyes finally open after six day, she tenses at the change in location, before he sees the memories flood back. She looks around, searching, and when she sees him, she smiles in a tired, relieved sort of way. "Mohinder…"

" _Sarah_." He takes her hands, he doesn't want to hurt her, but he needs to touch her.

"What happened?"

He settles on the floor next to the bed, so they are eye level, and he can stroke her hair as he speaks. "Peter offered his assistance. I never told you before, but he can mimic other people's powers when he concentrates on them. So he changed into one of the guards." His fingers are carding through her hair, mesmerized by the color. "I created a diversion and he got you out."

"But what if they – "

"Peter went back in later and did some subterfuge. We know a person who can erase memories. Peter used that to our advantage."

"So I'm… free?"

"Yes…" He paused. "Sarah, are you… alright?" He's staring into her eyes, focus darting from one to the other, and she frowns. With a sigh, he reaches to the nightstand and hands her a mirror. He watches her pick it up in confusion, then gasp as she looks at herself. Her hands are shaking.

Her hair is the darkest black he has ever seen – some Indian movie starlets have hair that smoothly, deeply back. It is a pour of ink over her shoulders, a waterfall of night. And her eyes – one is the same vivid, absinthe green from before, the other is a bright cerulean blue. Her features are softer, but still Sarah.

"What – "

"My eyes always frightened people." Her voice is wavering. "Even before I found out… what I can do…" She laughs self-deprecatingly. "Actually, I was wishing so hard one day to look normal that's when I first changed. A perfect little blonde-haired, green-eyed child. When I ran up to my mom, she didn't recognize me, she was worried about finding my parents. She was so nice, so kind." She pauses. "When I lost control of the transformation, she… well she freaked out. Called me a witch." Another long pause, during which she puts the mirror down. "It wasn't too long after that she abandoned me." She won't look at him. "I practiced until I could look normal after that." A laugh. "I almost forgot what I really looked like."

"Hey." He reaches out to grasp her chin, to turn her face towards him, forcing her to look at him. "Miss Grey, I wouldn't care if you were bald or had red eyes or purple skin." He swallows, tongue thick in his throat. "It wouldn't matter to me, because you're still you." He meets her eyes straight on. "I love you, whatever you are."

Her smile is blinding in its happiness.


End file.
